Body Shots
by The Frisky Firelily
Summary: It was meant to be a simple job. Nobody counted on the body shots. Two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**TITLE: **Body Shots

**DISCLAIMER: **Not mine

**A/N: **Ok, a super belated bday prezzie for **Baschashe **(an all-round shiny person who brings sunshine wherever she goes), based on an inadvertent prompt from the ever cheeky **Cede-lede **(the saucy minx).

* * *

><p>Jayne narrowed his eyes. The bar was near silent, and she was stretched across his lap, trying to look bold when everything in her body was obviously screaming to start a war. Her breathing was ragged, shaky, and despite the calm look on her face he could feel her heart racing, tattooing a beat across his palm.<p>

He licked his lips.

This was all Mal's fault.

And somehow he couldn't quite bring himself to be pissed.

**Yesterday**

Mal grinned as he explained the plan to his dumbstruck crew. "Now I know it's a lil bit on the crazy side, but then again so're we, so I figure it just might work."

Simon finally found his voice, standing at the galley table and pointing an accusatory finger at the Captain. "You want her to be a _whore_!"

Mal rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Come on Doc, ya know that ain't what I'm sayin'."

He rubbed his temples impatiently, speaking slowly, as if to a very young child. "What I'm sayin' is that they ain't never seen Jayne or yer sister, but they know me an' Zo'. Now Jayne can't cover the whole bar on his own, an' they got people on the lookout fer us, so yer sister is a good bet for backup. If they go in together things're gonna look mighty fishy ta our mark, so we need 'em both inside separately."

Simon's face was a little red at being patronised. "I'm not a moron, Captain." Mal and Jayne shared a smirk that only seemed to irritate the doctor more.

"I understand full well that he'll need backup; what I don't understand is why my 19 year old sister working as a whore in a bar full of criminals is necessary to the fulfilment of your pla-"

"Doc," Mal's voice was sharp. "This ain't the kinda bar that's used ta women goin' in fer a drink. If your sister goes in she'll be noticed in a heartbeat; nice little Core girls don't just stroll into the most dangerous bars on Likure every day, _dong ma_? This'd be fer her protection too."

Simon groaned. "Well why can't Inara do it?"

Inara wasn't particularly insulted by the request; she understood Simon's concern, but she also knew exactly what the Captain's answer would be.

Although she didn't think the scoff was necessary.

"Doc, I could feed ya all the usual lines; I'm the Cap'n, my word is law, Inara ain't exactly gonna be believable as a common whore an' yer sister has already shown Badger that she can act well iffen she's so inclined."

His eyes grew firm. "But I ain't gonna say any o' that because you know the biggest reason; yer sister is a damn good lil weapon, an' Jayne's gonna need decent backup in this place. Zo' an' I'll be around an' ready should we be required, but the bottom line is there ain't nobody better to take Jayne's back than yer kid sister."

Simon was silent and Jayne scowled. Being told he needed backup in the form of a 90lb teenager rankled, but he'd seen her shoot before, and given who they were dealing with he knew the Captain was right.

Didn't mean he had to like it.

The girl in question raised a brow, and he was suddenly a little too focused on that purple dress and the way that it clung to her lean frame to remember what he was being pissed about.

At Simon's silence Mal nodded. "Good, glad we sorted that out." He turned to River. "Now, lil 'tross, I reckon yer gonna have ta ask Inara here iffen she won't mind deckin' you out all appropriate. Seems I don't have the wardrobe ta be so accommodatin'."

Inara rolled her eyes but smiled as she stood, gesturing for River to follow her. The youngest member of Serenity was currently wearing that purple dress that always seemed to make Jayne's eyes follow her (though the ex-Companion admitted that since the girl had slashed his chest wearing that same dress maybe the merc's concern was valid).

Jayne stood without ceremony, striding out towards his bunk to do a weapons check before the Captain insisted on briefing him all over again. He hated running jobs himself; being the big scary guy who didn't have to interact until violence was required tended to be his _raison d'etre. _Still, Maxwell Itre knew the Cap'n and Zoe, and they needed someone who looked like a criminal to meet with their mark.

Which ruled out Simon.

Still, the idea of going into the den of criminals with the Reader as backup was…disconcerting. Especially since she tended to distract him when she was wearing baggy dresses and stolen shirts, so he wasn't particularly comfortable with the idea of her dolled up like one of the women he was so damn fond of.

He didn't mind having the girl as a second gun hand; truthfully, his back had never been better covered. They worked well together, didn't need much talking with a Reader around, and while she didn't have Zoe's warrior woman presence, she sure gave the element of surprise.

Which didn't excuse the way she traipsed into his thoughts as if she owned the place.

He sighed, wishing for a minute that Book was still around, since the Shepherd had an easy way of talking to him that didn't rile him up. He also wished Wash was around, if only to get rid of the sadness in Zoe's eyes.

* * *

><p>Zoe looked at Mal across the galley table, the two of them alone as the rest of the crew went about their preparations (or, in Simon's case, cleaning the infirmary six times to help deal with his nerves).<p>

The first mate shook her head. "You sure this is a good idea, sir?"

Mal smirked. "Course I am Zo', shouldn't be much trouble at all."

She stood, shaking her head.

Mal hadn't seen the way Jayne was looking at the Reader, and this plan had all the indications of something about to go very, very far south.

* * *

><p>Inara smiled as Kaylee trotted into her shuttle behind River, eager to help. "You even got somethin' that'll look right on her 'Nara?"<p>

The ex-Companion nodded. "Yes. Some clients prefer a certain…flavour to their sessions. Whilst it was never my personal preference, it became necessary to develop somewhat of an…extra wardrobe."

Kaylee tilted her head, eyes sparkling with interest. "Ya mean…costumes?"

Inara sighed but laughed. "Yes, I suppose that's the best way to put it."

At the hopeful look in Kaylee's eye River glared. "Please do not consider copulation with sibling in costume while she is here."

Kaylee had the grace to blush as Inara pulled a chest from under the sumptuous bed, the rich mahogany a reminder of days gone by. No tug at her chest when she thought about her old life; she wouldn't trade all the elegant parties in the world for her crew.

River was standing silently in the centre of the room, and Inara took a moment to study her before opening the chest. Slender and pale, though her previously tangled hair was now brushed into chocolate curls. Still no make-up, but she honestly didn't require it; her newfound grip on sanity meant that the medications that had ravaged her system with dark circles and a sickly pallor were no more.

Inara's clinical eye swept over the slim figure, small but supple breasts, narrow waist and lean hips. She evaluated, much like a house madam, and quickly picked up on the best traits to enhance.

She smiled as she opened the chest, reaching inside to pull out the outfit she had in mind. Kaylee's eyes went wide and River swallowed nervously.

Inara nodded. "Yes, this will be perfect."

* * *

><p>The bar was crowded, dark, thick with smoke and loud voices. Painted women trawled through the crowds, deftly avoiding the hands of those desperate for a feel without monetary exchange, smiling falsely through hardened masks. The patrons were rowdy, well into their drunken states, games of pool soon to transform into arguments and then brawls.<p>

Just his kind of place.

He adjusted his earwig, knowing Mal and Zoe would be instructing him quietly if need be, relieved that they didn't feel the need to chatter constantly. The lights were low, but his eyes could pick out every face in the crowd, and he thanked his Pa for being tall. He couldn't see Crazy anywhere, but Mal had assured him that she was in position. Inara had pulled some strings, flirting the bar owner into taking on her 'niece' for the evening, and Jayne had grinned at hearing yet another example of Inara's easy manipulation. The ex-Companion was a damn valuable addition to the team.

He spotted the mark and strode towards the table. The heat meant he was only wearing a black t-shirt and green cargos over his boots, but he preferred being unencumbered.

People tended to assume it meant he was unarmed.

He hid a grin. He liked it when people assumed things.

The meeting started easily enough. Maxwell Itre had the lean, hungry look of a whippet, and Jayne recognised another mercenary when he saw one. Only difference between them was that Jayne's job title was clear; Itre was pretending to be a respectable businessman, looking for a cargo transport.

And given the kind of cargo he hoped to transport, he wanted his passage to be just as dodgy as he was.

As the conversation struck up Jayne surpressed a niggling irritation. Firstly, he still hadn't spotted the girl, and secondly, he was starting to suspect that Mal had thought he would blend in for other reasons. Enjoying the company of a whore was one thing, pretending to be a people trafficker was something else, and he made a mental note to have words with the Captain. `Even though they were planning to dupe this guy, take his cash and set his slaves free, Jayne couldn't help a feeling of discomfort that his Captain thought he'd fit in so damn well.

Itre grinned. "Well, looks like we got a deal Cobb. Reckon we should celebrate."

Jayne fought the urge to sneer, knowing what kind of celebration a man like this would have in mind. As Itre clicked his fingers towards the barkeep Jayne slammed back his whisky, hating this part of the job. He was more than comfortable being a filthy perv on his own time; sharing women wasn't something he found a particularly pleasant hobby.

Itre's eyes lit up at whatever tasty was being called to the table, and he shot Jayne a gap toothed grin. "Which you prefer Cobb; blonde an' curvy or brunette?"

Jayne turned as the girl's approached the table. The buxom blonde was wearing a skin-tight blue dress that seemed to be made of some kind of leather, artful ringlets falling over her shoulders and overly made up face. The feather in her hair had wilted slightly from the heady atmosphere of the bar, and Jayne couldn't help but think that on a normal day she'd be exactly what he went for.

The other…

_Ma de_.

Tousled chocolate curls tumbled around pale shoulders, smoky eyes regarded him carefully, and Jayne felt his mouth go dry. The bodice and skirt were the darkest red he'd ever seen, clinging tightly to the slim frame, pushing up the small breasts until they looked ready to spill over. Lean legs were encased in heeled black boots, the stockings leading up under the skirt, and his fingers itched to find out just how high they went.

Itre grabbed River's arm, drawing her closer, his leer making Jayne's blood boil. "Now there, how old are you sweetheart?"

She blinked prettily, reaching forward to take the already poured shot of whisky from in front of Jayne. "Nineteen." She slammed it back, her face showing no sign of the burning in her throat, and Jayne felt a moment of respect for the Reader.

Short words, little opportunity to tangle her sentences.

Itre grinned. "Well you don't look a damn day over 16, an' yer 'bout as pretty as a peach."

She dipped one finger into the now empty glass, drawing up the last droplets of whisky and sucking her finger into her mouth.

Slowly.

He felt his blood begin to warm, saw the way her eyes flicked to him for the briefest second, and wondered just how much of that little display was meant for his eyes only.

Something flared in Jayne's stomach and he made a snap decision, yanking her arm and pulling her down into his lap. He smirked at Itre. "Ya don't mind, do ya? I got a thing fer skinny brunettes lookin' like jailbait."

Any other man would have recoiled in disgust; Itre gave him an approving nod. "Be my guest Cobb." He gestured to the curvy blonde, who looked slightly put out at having missed an opportunity with the big man.

Jayne struggled to concentrate as he wrapped hands around River's cool skin. He tried to send out an apology, but had no idea if she'd Read him. For her part she was doing her best, curling one arm around his back and nuzzling into his neck. Her voice was soft and her breath cool.

"Tread carefully; he has mischief in his heart."

Jayne wasn't likely to ignore a warning like that, although the scent of her was making it difficult to breath. As Itre's cronies joined the table he kept an arm slung around River's narrow waist, carefully laying a claim in an attempt to spare her embarrassment.

Although he had to admit, his attraction wasn't exactly forced.

The group drank, harassing the serving girls and trying to ply favours from the whores as they delved deeper into drunkenness. If River was put off by the way their hands would occasionally grab for her leg, she didn't show it. Jayne, on the other hand, was finding himself growing more and more tense, not only due to fending off such advances, but from the offensively smooth body currently sitting in his lap. He let them carry on, rowdy and loud, and was getting ready to find them an exit when one of the cronies turned beady eyes to River.

"'ere then Cobb, how's about ya share a lil bit? Ain't like you've taken her for a turn yet."

Jayne glared darkly, a look that tended to make smart men back of quickly.

Unfortunately, his opponent wasn't smart.

Itre noticed the possessive tightening around River's waist and his eyebrow twitched. "You seen the girl before Cobb?"

Jayne growled. "Nope, first time on Likure."

Itre's eyes narrowed, and Jayne saw him smelling a rat. "Seems like yer bein' a might particular bout her. Everythin' I heard says you'd've taken her upstairs for a spin by now. Yer seemin' a mite shy."

He leaned forward, uncaring as the blonde in his lap was jostled. "You wouldn't be tryin' ta play me, would ya?"

Jayne flashed him a cocky grin, silently apologising to River as he ran a lecherous hand up her slim thigh. "Naw, jus' like playin' with my food afore I eat it." He kept the leer on his face as his heart stopped around where the silky stockings turned to silkier skin.

Itre wasn't convinced, and his right hand man whispered in his ear. Itre grinned knowingly. "Well then, how's about we get the festivities started?"

Jayne felt his blood run cold. He'd seen this before; animalistic displays designed to put off potential sneaks. Anyone in the slave trade had little issue treating a body like a toy, and the merc knew he was in for some trouble as they leered.

Itre gestured to the barkeep, a serving girl bringing over the tray of shot glasses filled with tequila, wedges of lemon, and salt. Of course. The bar had thinned, and Jayne was acutely aware that they were largely in the company of very dangerous people, all of whom were eyeing him, ready to pounce.

Jayne narrowed his eyes. The bar was near silent, and she was stretched across his lap, trying to look bold when everything in her body was obviously screaming to start a war. Her breathing was ragged, shaky, and despite the calm look on her face he could feel her heart racing, tattooing a beat across his palm.

This was all Mal's fault.

And somehow he couldn't quite bring himself to be pissed.

There was a reason Mal had chosen him for this role, and his Captain was about to see exactly what happened when you sent a lion in with a lamb.

He scratched at his ear, the tiny earwig falling out unnoticeably, and he knew what he had to do. He breathed carefully for a moment, tapping into that dangerous, dark part that had lead Mal to hire him. Tapping into the mercenary, the leering rogue, the man who enjoyed whores regularly. He fought the urge to apologise again, knowing this was the quickest, easiest way to get them both out of here.

He grinned, wrapping a large hand around her slender throat.

"Bout time you boys showed some balls."


	2. Chapter 2

**TITLE: **Body Shots

**DISCLAIMER: **Not mine

**A/N: **Um…more smut. Blame **Alphadine** :)

* * *

><p>Mal hissed. "His earpiece is faulty." His annoyed tone turned into a bellow. "Kaylee!"<p>

The mechanic shook her head. "Can't reconnect Cap'n, it's dropped out."

Mal huffed. "Always gotta go wrong right when Jayne's set ta do somethin' dumb."

* * *

><p>He rolled the cigar between his teeth, weighing up his options.<p>

This was why Mal kept him around. Nobody in the 'verse was capable of staying alive the way Jayne Cobb was. Still, it wasn't just him in this situation, and he knew he couldn't bluff his way out of this alone. He flexed a hand over the corset binding her taut stomach.

He was well aware of her limits. No one went on as many jobs as they did without realizing their partner's list of do's and don'ts. River's 'do' list tended to run along the lines of 'do trust her to get her end of the job done', 'do listen to her warnings', 'do think clearly and methodically so she can understand your position'.

Her list of don'ts was short.

_Don't _touch her without permission.

It wasn't meant nastily, and it wasn't an indication that she didn't enjoy affection. She leaned on her brother's shoulder as he made med notes on the couch. She wrestled with Kaylee, giggling and squirming. She enjoyed the Captain's rare praise accompanied by paternal closeness, as well as Inara's maternal petting. She delighted in Zoe's wide eyes as her child kicked, relishing the opportunity to feel the tiny life proclaiming its existence. She just preferred to keep contact on her own terms, and the rest of the crew respected that.

But with Jayne?

Well, they didn't have that kind of relationship. The closest they ever came to touching was when one of them grabbed the other out of the line of fire. Jayne wasn't particularly disagreeable to the arrangement, seeing as every time their skin came into contact he tended to start sweating like a nervous teenager. On jobs it was fine.

But this had never been covered in the handbook.

They had the location of where the slaves were being held, although they hadn't collected the credits yet. He needed to get them out of here before things turned ugly; he knew these men, and if he didn't think quickly River would wind up little more than a ragdoll passed between them. He needed a distraction, and if this would throw off their opponents then so be it.

He struggled hard not to think of just what she would do if he pushed her too far. No room for that, not when he needed every ounce of bravado he'd accumulated in over 30 years to act like he wasn't scared of their slim girl in his lap.

Itre smirked. "Go on then Cobb, give us a show."

He fought the revulsion in his throat. Mal had given him a kill order if required, but he couldn't take them all out from this position, not up so close with the girl in front of his body.

He couldn't risk it.

Quashing down the brief question of when exactly he'd started caring about her enough to refuse risking her life he thought fast. He had enough weapons stashed on him for the both of them, and the girl was mighty dexterous, but she couldn't move her hands without them taking immediate notice.

He mentally gritted his teeth and gave a wolfish grin, pulling her head back by her jaw and growling into her ear.

"Ready ta give 'em a show girly?"

The whoops and catcalls disguised the nervous hitch in her breathing, though he suspected that with this particular crowd it wouldn't have been a deterrent. He stood, lifting her with him, moving to the next table and sweeping glasses and plates to the floor. He lowered her swiftly, fighting back a grimace as he heard a glass shatter beneath her.

He pulled her up until her bare throat was in front of his mouth, and for a second he caught her eyes.

Not fear.

Not the anxiety or tension he'd been worried about.

Those eyes were hooded, dark, smoky.

He took a drag of his cigar.

She ran a tongue across her lips nervously and he shook himself from his reverie, swiping his tongue quickly across the smooth skin of her neck. He didn't give himself time to think about the taste of her, didn't let himself dwell on how her skin was like silk. He used his free hand to grab the salt shaker, dusting her neck quickly and going in for another taste.

River Tam and salt.

He could get used to this.

He plucked up a shot glass and swung it back, about to reach for a lemon before seeing one clenched between her teeth.

Now when had she done that?

His eyebrows shot up as the catcalls got louder before diving in to bite down on the tart lemon and softest, plumpest lip he'd ever bitten. One hand clutched at him as he turned his head and spat out the lemon rind, exhaling a stream of cigar smoke as he did so.

Somewhere along the way he'd stopped caring about their audience, because her legs were hooked around his waist and her lips were parted. Her corset had slipped down, one perfect globe exposed, and he attacked her with vigour, scraping teeth and tongue over the dusky nipple. He ran a hand up her thigh quickly, over the stocking and onto satin skin, tangling his fingers in her panties and tearing them from her body.

Her gasp snapped him out of his move to unbutton his cargos, and he suddenly remembered where they were. Their eyes locked for a second and he could have sworn he saw regret before she blinked and her face turned resolute.

Click.

He glanced down. He had no idea how or when she'd grabbed the two hand canons, but he was relieved he'd followed suit. If she was shaken, surprised, frightened or nervous she didn't show it. The only evidence of their previous state was the ripped material wedged between his hand and the weapon.

If he was honest, he was more than a little impressed.

Itre and his cronies suddenly found themselves facing four weapons pointed in their various positions around the table. Jayne, avoiding wondering why he was leaning forward to cover her bare chest from their eyes, he kept his voice low and dangerous.

"The credits."

One crony sneered, "Fuck o-"

The sound of a .45 ripping through his kneecap silenced the bar, the only noise a wail of agony. River's cocked a brow and Itre looked livid.

"You fuckin' whor-"

Jayne growled. "Finished that sentence an' I'll decorate the room with yer innards."

Itre wised up fast, and nodded to one crony, who threw the bag of credits on the table. Jayne stayed put as River leaned up, grabbing the bag with one hand and shoving it into his cargo pocket. He bit his lip when her fingers brushed his cock, still hard as a _gorram _diamond after their brief tryst.

He caught her eye, saw the twitch of a smile.

Witch.

He couldn't control the gravel in his voice. "Now git out."

If there was any hesitation River's second blast, this one straight into the ceiling, ended it. He listened as the crew, the barkeep, the working girls and the staff all bolted out of the bar, leaving them alone in the barroom. The only evidence of their presence was a table full of glasses and a trail of blood from one man's wounded knee.

She bit down on her lip and he stifled a groan.

He stared down at her. "We ain't got much time afore they come back girl."

She lowered her weapons to the table, using her free hands the reach for his cargos, eyes not leaving his own as she unbuttoned them. Hesitant hands started touching him, and he leaned forward, his forehead pressing into hers as his hands slammed either side of her hips.

She was intoxicating. The dress was something out of an erotic nightmare, the smoky eyes and tousled hair belonging to somebody else, but the lips, the smell…that was her. The ballerina floating through his dreams, the girl he'd spent months watching carefully. There was no sound other than their breathing as she touched him, breath ragged and hitching. He slid his hand up the path it had been trying to take earlier, and when his thumb rubbed the inside of her thigh she whimpered.

The sound did him in, and he gripped her bare hips under the dress, pulling her towards him. He removed her hands, unwilling to pop like an over excited teenager, and couldn't look away from wide eyes as he rubbed circles on her sharp hipbones, feeling her breath on his lips as he spoke.

"You know what yer doin' girl?"

Choked breathing. "No."

He nodded, willing himself to move his hands before he got too entranced with her body. Slim but surprisingly strong fingers gripped his wrist and held him in place as whisky eyes locked with blue.

"She doesn't know what she's doing."

He nodded, confused as her eyes darkened.

"She wants to do it anyway."

He studied her face, unsure if this was one of those things that would put his soul in jeopardy.

Her voice took on a pleading note. "Please?"

Fuck his soul, he was going to hell anyway.

Besides, he'd never been one to deny a girl when she asked so damn nicely.

He didn't think as he dipped his head, wanting to taste those lips, one hand trailing down to the apex of her thighs. She whimpered into his mouth as the other hand wrapped around her back, pulling her close enough to feel his hardness at her centre, the calloused pad of his thumb skimming over her clit.

Her mouth tasted like apples, dark and red, juicy and sweet. The tart tang of lemon scented her breath, and he sucked that plump bottom lip into his mouth. As her lips obediently bade him entrance he couldn't help deepening the kiss, goatee scratching smooth skin, her tongue flirting with his. She moaned as his hips shifted against her of their own volition, and he leaned down, forcing her back onto the table to better study the goddess in front of him.

His words came out in a hoarse pant. "Perfect…"

She blushed, the flush spreading down her neck and across her chest, and he watched in wonder. "Ruttin' perfect…"

Hair in disarray, eyes hooded and glazed, lips red and breasts bare as the corset slipped down further. He ran one hand down her neck, gripping her shoulder as he moved to take her mouth. He pushed up in one swift movement, feeling the barrier tear and swallowing her gasp as he kissed her. He didn't move, feeling strangled by the tight, slick channel he'd just opened, and he watched as the pain subsided from her face, leaving awe and arousal in its wake.

She shifted experimentally, and he growled into her lips, feeling her tighten around him as he began to move. He wrapped an arm under one thigh, hooking it over the crook of his elbow and snaking his hand around her waist. The other slid over a supple breast, rolling her nipple between work roughened fingers as he began to slowly thrust into her. The angle rubbed him against her clit, and her whimpers turned to gasps, which in turn became cries of pleasure as he moved faster.

He'd never felt this before, wanting to make sure she hit her peak before his, and as he plucked at one abused nipple she wrapped her arms around him, hanging on as their mouths continued to brutalize one another. He pulled up until she was sitting upright; the new angle making her close her eyes and hiss into his lips as her leg tightened around his waist. The heel of her knee high boot dug into his lower back and he felt her nails prick into his skin, her lips seeming fused to his as he picked up the pace.

Her kisses were frantic, guileless, and he found something more arousing in her inexperienced honesty than he'd ever found in the most informed whore. When he plucked at her nipple she gasped, a rub of her clit had her crying out, and he felt himself approach the edge as her inner muscles began to clamp down around him.

Her choked cries and ragged gasps were filling his ears, and as she splintered her head dropped back, a liquid, piercing scream emerging from her throat. The sound had him burying his face in her neck as he felt himself come apart, tasting sweat and salt and tequila and River and loving every second of it. The force of his climax hit like a tidal wave, and he roared into her skin as he buried himself inside her.

Their ragged breath was once again the only sound in the room, and as he struggled to come back to himself he pulled his head from her neck, looking down into exhausted, sated eyes. He leaned down, nipping at her lips before landing a gentle kiss, her answering hum of pleasure making him smile into her mouth.

Both of them twitched as they heard the sounds of approaching sirens, and he looked down at her apologetically. Before he could speak she smiled, kissing his cheek and laughing sweetly at his answering grin.

"Ruttin' perfect…"

* * *

><p>Mal's yelling over Jayne's loss of earpiece ceased when the merc threw the bag of credits on the counter, along with the name of the slaver's location. The crew had them out quickly, and the town was grateful for the return of their sons and daughters, wives and husbands. Only Inara noticed the shy smile their Reader shot the mercenary as they broke the lock on the cages, and the ex-Companion kept her thoughts to herself.<p>

River's blush was the only indication they weren't her thoughts alone.

Days later as Simon, Mal and Jayne passed around a celebratory bottle of booze, the rest of the crew enjoyed a fine home-cooked meal. Inara glanced at Jayne, who was looking down at the whisky bottle.

"Jayne, is there something wrong with your drink?"

He shrugged. "Guess I just ain't in a whisky kinda mood."

Simon hiccupped, grinning lopsidedly at Kaylee as he spoke. "What are you in the mood for then?"

Inara watched as Jayne's eyes flicked over to River, who was wearing that same shy smile as he grinned.

"Tequila."

**The End**


End file.
